


Not a cuddler

by udyjay



Category: DCU - Comicverse, Superboy (Comic)
Genre: M/M, light sexual humor, very light
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-28
Updated: 2013-01-28
Packaged: 2017-11-27 05:57:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 521
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/658706
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/udyjay/pseuds/udyjay
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tim has to go to the bathroom in the middle of the night, but Conner is lying on top of him. Rock and a hard place.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not a cuddler

Conner said he wasn’t really a cuddler. And Tim believed him. Tim still believes him. The fact that he’s lying on top of him wouldn’t suggest he’s a cuddler; it suggests that he quite literally is no longer aware that there is someone else in the same bed, and has draped himself completely over Tim. 

Conner is not a cuddler.   
He’s a jerk.   
A bed jerk, of sorts. 

Tim wriggled underneath the larger boy, trying to see if he could ease a little space and slip out. How is he sleeping like such a rock? Why can’t he just sleep on the bed, which is much more comfortable than Tim is? Conner's strong, warm arms cradled Tim’s shoulder and head— damn it. 'Strong warm arms' were not the thoughts that Tim was trying to have, but they were sneaking their way into his head anyways. Hold on. Let’s make a few points, because it’s come off that Tim might appear angry. He really isn’t. The only things that are remotely bad right now are two things: One, it’s entirely possible that Conner might start drooling all over Tim’s neck any second now. Two, Tim really. Really. Really has to pee. 

Looking down to try and make out where exactly everyone’s limbs lay, Tim lifted one of Conner’s arms, shifted it and dropped; only for it to land exactly where it was. “This is impossible, Kon,” Tim grumbled, other hand flying up to try and shove Conner’s shoulder. Helping an injured person on the field was so much easier than trying to lift Kryptonian dead weight, specially one that seemed intent on staying right where the fuck he was. …Aaaand there goes the drool, oh god that’s gross, time to get out. Out out out. 

Tim lifted his hips, chance of a hard-on be damned (because Conner was kind of pressing in all the right places), and shoved himself out of underneath Conner in one full powered heave. Tim promptly fell onto the floor with an ‘oof’, blanket half being dragged down with him and tangling his feet. Conner was still sleeping. Very comfortably. He just nuzzled his drooly face into the pillow, the bastard. 

Unwrapping his feet from the blanket, Tim stood up and rubbed his elbow, which he landed on, and went to the bathroom to finally relieve himself. And wash his hands and neck because Conner drooled on him, and look at himself in the mirror and laugh because he was just trapped underneath Conner and managed to escape. So maybe not laugh at himself, but laugh in victory because he did it without too much pain. Time to get back to bed. 

He made his way back to the room, and on to Conner’s side of the bed. Well, it was Conner’s side of the bed until he decided the entire bed ought to be occupied by himself, so Tim just worked with his options. He’d have to talk to the other about sleeping etiquette in the morning. Tim didn’t mind being engulfed and held by him— it was the whole dead-weight-I-can’t-really-breathe-even-though-you-feel-nice-and-warm-but-you-drooled-on-me-and-I-have-to-pee issue. 

It can be worked out.


End file.
